


Shattered Mind, Shattered Heart

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Brain Damage, Catatonic Obi-Wan Kenobi, Gen, NO DEATH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 18:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11537826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Anakin tries to figure out what to do next, with Obi-Wan no longer able to fight at his side.Or do much of anything at all.





	Shattered Mind, Shattered Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to post this in the space of 5 minutes because I must run off again for the same reason I've been gone for over a week. If I missed any tags, let me know, I just really wanted to get something posted before another week passed.

 

Anakin slowly came to, aware of a terrible pain in his chest.

Memory returned in pieces, his eyes still tight closed.

Maul.

A strike of a blood-red blade that he missed—

_How am I still alive?_

All was silent, the stillness that falls after a battle's over. Hearing a choked noise Anakin exerted his willpower to roll his head to the side and open his impossibly heavy eyelids.

He found glazed blue eyes very close to his own.

Panic surged through Anakin's body as he found no recognition there.

Forcing himself to sit up, Anakin felt his body screaming at him, but not as he expected.

_I shouldn't be able to move this much._

The worst of the damage had been knit together—

_And I really don't think it was me._

He saw a red arm lying on the ground, and there was no sign of their attacker.

Obi-Wan himself had a nasty gash along his side, untouched. Anakin dragged himself closer, found that it wasn't bleeding, but that didn't seem to have been through any effort of the one bearing it.

“Force damn it, Obi-Wan,” Anakin rasped, reaching out to run his hand over Obi-Wan's head. “Wake up for me. Come on. Wake up.”

Still the eyes stared at nothing.

_Breathing but unresponsive._

_I have to get him out of here._

Through careful maneuvering and much pained hissing, Anakin pulled Obi-Wan over his shoulders and then braced one knee to lunge up.

Taking a deep, shaking breath—

_This is going to hurt. Bad._

Worst-case scenario, he passed out and toppled over, leaving them to try it again later.

_Yeah. Please don't. Okay. Come on, Master._

He lurched to his feet, and before he could allow himself to fall over again he took several stumbling steps and just kept  _taking_ them.

_Ship, ship, get back to the ship._

_Get help._

_Ship._

He kept the mantra steady in his head, seeing only the next several steps in front of him as gray closed in around his vision.

_Get there. Get there. Keep going._

_I can do this._

His brain slowed, he felt like there was a sun in his chest, he could feel the trickle of blood down his forehead and wondered when he'd hurt his head. Or was it sweat?

This place wasn't particularly warm—

Maybe from the pain. Yes, that was probably it.

The words in his mind slowed until four looped endlessly, one for each painful step he took.

_I._

_Can._

_Do._

_This._

_I._

_Can._

_Do—_

He stood there for several seconds before he realized they'd arrived. Fingers that didn't quite work right unlocked and opened the hatch, and then Obi-Wan was sliding to the floor, and Anakin was trying to ease his fall without falling over too.

_Once I go down, I won't be getting back up._

He secured the door again and staggered into the cockpit, keying the long-range comms.

“This is Anakin Skywalker,” he spoke as clearly as he could. “Need help. Both badly wounded. Don't think I can fly. Obi-Wan's unconscious. Force, get here soon,  _please—_ ”

He didn't remember turning off the comm, so he might not have.

Might have just slumped against the dash and blacked out.

 

* * *

 

He didn't see Kit Fisto leaning over him in concern, hands tender as they eased him out of the pilot's seat. Didn't see green arms lay him down beside his master and smooth the bloodied hair back from his forehead.

Didn't see the whisper of lips as the Nautolan asked the Force to spare these two.

Didn't see him fight to save them.

Didn't see that any other member of the Council would have fought for them just as fervently as this one did.

He'd been closest, and a cry for help would never go unanswered.

 

* * *

 

“Tell me he's not dying,” Anakin pleaded as he saw the dire expression on the Healer's face.

Vokara Che shook her head. “No. You got him here in time to save his life, but he won't ever leave here again.”

“He hates the Halls of Healing,” Anakin numbly protested. “He can't live here the rest of his life.”

Vokara sent a wistful glance to where the broken Jedi lay on the bed, eyes open but unseeing. “The only other option is for someone to care for him all the time, day and night. He's completely helpless.”

“Can he hear me?” Anakin asked, moving to stand beside the still figure, his fingers reaching out to hold the limp hand.

“We don't know.”  
Anakin nodded.

 

* * *

 

He spent the night by Obi-Wan's side, watching over him with a patience born of love.

It was a night of silence, of soul-searching.

A vigil.

In the morning, when movement through the Halls began again, Anakin met Vokara's questioning glance with quiet conviction.

 

* * *

 

“I hereby resign my commission and my knighthood. I do this so I may take on Master Kenobi as my charge.”  
Windu's eyes saddened. “You do realize one of the Paired Healers would choose him. Individuals who want to to care for the entirely helpless, and have trained for years to do so?”

“I understand,” Anakin replied. “But I believe this to be the Force's path for me.”

“A long time, a lifetime is, to chained by a feeling of indebtedness be.”

Anakin gave a sober nod. “This isn't from a place of debt, Master Yoda. I believe I'm here, now, for this purpose. That the Force is asking of me this service.”

“We accept the resignation of your commission,” Windu sighed. “I'm not sure how we're going to win this war without the two of you, but we will not stand in the way of the will of the Force. The trainers are at your disposal, so that you may learn what you need in order to follow this path.”

“And my knighthood?”  
Mace gave a nod. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say we hope you retain that title. Should Obi-Wan someday need to leave the Temple, it would be of immeasurable assistance to you to have that authority and the exemptions it offers.”

“I have the Council's blessing to become his guardian and caretaker, then?”  
“You do.” Yoda bowed his head, expression grave. “And a home here, the two of you will always have.”

Anakin bowed in return, heart filling with strange emotions. “Thank you.”

* * *

 

Anakin moved from his solitary room to a suite with two bedrooms, a bathroom configured to be convenient for the mobility challenged, a small kitchen, and a very large window looking down into the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

For the first few weeks a Healer slept on the couch, teaching Anakin the basics of caring for an invalid, and close by in case of emergency.

Since Obi-Wan was incapable of eating or drinking, Anakin learned how to administer nutrients and fluids to keep him from silently starving to death. He learned how to safely bathe him, how to keep the unused muscles from atrophying and rotting away by exercising them using a careful combination of the Force and gentle electrical impulses that allowed various muscle groups to tense, then relax.

Most important, the Healer addressed the emotional and psychological struggles Anakin would pass through in the coming weeks and months...

And years.

He hadn't stepped into this lightly.

It was rough for him to clean the body of his once fiercely-independent friend. It was difficult to settle him into the massive, comfortable chair by the window, aimed so he could stare out of it, even though Anakin suspected he saw none of it.

Obi-Wan had two modes now. Asleep with his eyes closed, or awake and completely cut off from the world around him.

The Healer encouraged Anakin to speak aloud as he worked with Obi-Wan, announcing what he was going to do before doing it, and also narrating his activities through the day.

She said it would not only help Anakin cope with the loneliness the new silence would bring, but it was possible Obi-Wan could still hear, even if he could not interact.

Anakin could imagine being trapped, with nothing whatsoever to do or see.

_I would be willing to listen to_ anything  _over nothing._

The habit felt strange, at first, speaking to someone who he knew would not answer. Someone who very well might not be able to hear him.

But it formed its own kind of bond. One of shared endurance.

Anakin found his perspective slowly shifting from this being a solitary endeavor, to the two of them being a team again.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan had always disliked being cooped up inside, so Anakin made it a habit to take Obi-Wan out to a different garden each day. The Temple had many, from the ones that grew fruit and vegetables for the kitchen, to the ones commemorating Jedi who had died, to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, to the quiet garden accessible only through the Halls of Healing, meant for the long-term patients requiring extra comfort of mind and soul.

Anakin didn't know if the changes in location made a difference or not to his brother, but he thought it worth the attempt.

He met new people as the Team lingered in places the war had prevented them from frequenting. It didn't take long for children to find him, to sit around Obi-Wan's feet listening as Anakin told stories of his time as Obi-Wan's Padawan and their exploits during the war.

Little ones would make chains and leis out of flowers, draping them around Obi-Wan as Anakin spun his tales. They would cuddle up beside the unresponsive Jedi and send little pulses of compassion, warmth, and peace into his mind.

It brought tears to Anakin's eyes to see, _feel_ their kindness.

For years he'd thought he didn't like children.

Now he realized he'd never stood still long enough to hear the songs of their souls. He came to look forward to the patter of their feet and their playful chatter. Their giggles and gifts.

They would bring him drawings of his battles, of his ships—

Of Obi-Wan, lying in the soft grass, staring up at the swaying leaves of the trees overhead, surrounded by their smiling selves.

Anakin found himself hanging some of the pictures up in their small kitchen, and seeing them reminded him of the warmth the small souls offered to ward off the coldness of the silence and grief.

The children weren't the only ones who surprised him.

He hadn't realized how important his master was to so many people. Young adults would hover nearby, timidly ask Anakin if they could have a few moments alone with Obi-Wan.

They would lie on their backs beside him, staring up at the swaying branches and pouring out their hearts in whispers. Their fears, their confusions, their predicaments.

Word spread among the older children and teens. Even Jedi older than that would come, sit by the still one's side, and confide.

They walked away having found a measure of peace, if nothing else.

Sometimes they managed to work through the problem all on their own, simply by speaking it aloud.

As the months passed, Anakin began to be able to spot someone here for that purpose by the way they approached, and their senses in the Force. He would smile, move a short distance away, and busy himself with his new hobby until they'd found what they needed and returned Obi-Wan to him.

It had been Eeth Koth who'd brought him drafting tools and flimsi. Anakin had nearly turned them away, blushing furiously and trying to convince the Council member he was no engineer—

Eeth had smiled and left the tools.

Anakin hadn't touched them for two weeks, until during a rare moment in the hangar, with Obi-Wan safely ensconced in a chair, he saw the new starfighters.

Heart in his throat and fluttering wildly, he'd set about learning all of the new secrets, and as he went, he kept seeing things that could be done better. To make them faster, safer, sturdier, more likely to come home.

Soon flimsis were scattered all over the floor as Anakin sketched madly, the designs spilling from his soul and unwilling to stop.

It didn't take long for the GAR to start implementing his improvements.

_I may not be out there protecting our men anymore, but I can still fight to keep them safe._

It was a strange realization.

Even stranger, the discovery that this was his passion.

In spare moments he devoured volumes on ship design, wondering if he had the courage to create something utterly from scratch.

_I made a podracer, didn't I?_

Maybe someday there would be a  _Kenobi-Class_ ship out there. It would be beautiful, reliable, deadly.

In the meantime, he was enjoying every step of the journey.

It was Fisto who brought him his plans for an assault on the Citadel to try to rescue Evan Piell, asking for his input. Anakin glanced longingly at his silent companion, realizing he wasn't the only one who missed Obi-Wan's tactical genius.

He gave Kit what help he could, and when the Nautolan was gone, Anakin found himself lying beside Obi-Wan and spilling  _his_ heart out to his silent friend.

Frequenting the gardens that invalid Jedi favored, he learned to know some who had been spectacular warriors in their day, but due to injury or illness had been forced to walk a quieter path.

He found himself listening to their stories, knowing deep in his soul that he would never have taken the time to hear their wisdom had he continued his breakneck speed.

There was beauty here, now that he took the time to look.

They embraced him, understood the difficulty of going from a life of non-stop action to something of a completely different tone.

And when he felt ready to tear his hair out, frustrated to his deepest depths and on the verge of despair, one or another was always available to listen to his frantic search for meaning.

They reached out to him, and he clung to them, needing what they had to offer.

And never realized that in his need for their help and guidance in his life, he'd granted _them_ renewed purpose and vigor as well. A reason to look with eagerness to the days to come.

Ahsoka came to visit whenever she could.

Anakin had been afraid she would resent him for his choice, but when he tried to explain to her his decision, she'd wrapped him in a crushing hug and, through the tears, told him she was proud of him.

Even though Anakin only saw her once every several weeks, he began to notice subtle changes about her, changes she herself couldn't see.

_Being Plo Koon's Padawan is good for her._ The realization was bittersweet, sending a pang to Anakin's soul. It amazed him to see the young woman she was growing into, brave and kind and so gentle with Obi-Wan, so fierce in battle. He loved watching each new step she took in the direction of the future he knew she would alter for the better. It hurt to realize that Plo was drawing out the best in her in a way that her partnership with Anakin hadn't. They certainly had been good for one another, and their relationship was one the both would treasure forever, and she still came to him seeking advice—

_But learning under Master Koon is allowing her to live her best life._

And Anakin loved her too much to begrudge the fact that he wasn't the one to fill that role.

He'd been so afraid of his new life, afraid that if he didn't keep up the frantic pace his past set, something nameless and terrible would catch up to him.

And while there had been moments of terrible claustrophobia...

The mind-killing disaster hadn't struck.

And now, away from the violence, he began to see how toxic it had been for his soul. It had been destroying him by leaps and bounds, and he was only now beginning to see the extent of the damage. Just now starting to repair it, to seek healing.

While he deeply respected Palpatine and appreciated the undeserved attention and kindness the Chancellor had gifted him with over the course of his formative years, the Chancellor seemed incapable of understanding Anakin's choice.

Every time Anakin took time away from Obi-Wan to visit him, the man was showcasing how desperately the Republic needed Anakin's personal attention. How pointless his mission was, how anyone else could fill  _those_ shoes, how it would make no difference whatsoever to Obi-Wan, how it could make or break the galaxy if Anakin went to  _fight_ again.

The first several times Anakin had politely and respectfully explained how the war was destroying him, and how this was bringing him healing not only from the wounds caused in the war, but offered hope that maybe he could find a way to heal from his mother's death...

And perhaps, even find a measure of healing from his time as a slave.

He expected Palpatine to be happy for him, to respect his decision the way the Council had— after all, the Council was a collection of villains and Palpatine his mentor—

But Palpatine dismissed his experiences, instead assuring him he was a better person than he realized, that he was stronger than he knew, that they needed him.

_He is convinced I don't know what's best for me. He wants to push me in the direction he thinks is best, instead of respecting my knowledge of my body and mind._

It hurt.

Anakin's feet felt heavy as he worked his way through the Temple to the hangar so he could join Palpatine for dinner.

Halfway to the speeder he paused.

_Spending time with the Chancellor isn't helping me heal. He drags open old wounds, discounts my efforts by telling me healing isn't something that can be found and acting as if it isn't worth finding, and every time I tell him something exciting, he steals away the joy._

_It's possible to care for the man and deeply respect him, but know that he is not good for me._

Anakin turned to look back at the sweeping curve of stairs, seeing Jedi nod to one another and smile as they passed, as he heard the quiet peal of youngling laughter echoing somewhere nearby.

_And I know those who_ are.

He sent a message with his regrets, declining the invitation, and turned to go relieve his new friends from watching over Obi-Wan for the evening.

_I'll be spending it with my best friend._

He wended his way up to one of the flat roof areas of the Temple, felt the open air against his face and smiled.

Much better to be outside, than locked away inside anyway.

Instead of finding those who had offered to watch over Obi-Wan while he was away, he found the garden deserted except for Obi-Wan, and one other figure lying beside him in the grass.

For a long moment Anakin stood still and watched, unobserved, as Windu poured peace and calm into Obi-Wan's soul, as the stern Council leader lost his grim expression as he stilled his own mind into quiet, perfect harmony with the man who Palpatine thought no longer had anything to give.

_Master Windu sees value here._

Anakin watched as Windu tried to nudge Obi-Wan's mind awake, felt his pang of sadness when it did not succeed.

_He cares,_ Anakin realized.  _Dear Force, he cares._

Knowledge, gentle and definite, pressed against his soul.

_Mace's heart needs this._

Anakin silently backed away, and left Windu to his evening of caring for Obi-Wan.

Anakin entertained himself by pulling apart a maintenance droid and optimizing its programming and construction until the time he was expected to return from his dinner with Palpatine.

Windu asked to carry Obi-Wan back to their rooms, and Anakin agreed with a quiet nod.

The younger Jedi watched as the Korun gathered the limp body in his arms, drawing the head to rest against his chest and setting out at a brisk pace that may have once caused Anakin to miss the tenderness in his eyes, in the way he held the wounded Jedi...

But not anymore.

_I misjudged you, I think._

_It started out badly for us, but that was over a decade ago. I'm not who I was then. I doubt you remained unchanged by all the terrible things that have happened since then either._

_Maybe the monster of my youth no longer exists._

_Maybe it never did._

_And maybe, whether it did or not, it's time for me to let go of that resentment and find out if I've been missing out on a possible friend._

 

* * *

 

In spite of all of the new people who had become important in Anakin's life, in spite of having to send polite but firm messages back as Palpatine refused to just let him live his life on his own terms, in spite of droids and ships and tactics and caring for Obi-Wan keeping him busy, there were still long periods of quiet.

Soul-searching ensued.

He'd always hated it before, and in the early days of his new life, he hadn't known what to do with it.

Yoda would sit with him in silence, not saying a word, and Anakin found it comforting in a way it had never been before.

It was one such day, nearly a year into the new normal, and Anakin lay curled on his side, watching the stillness of Obi-Wan's face, and the subtle movements of Yoda's on Obi-Wan's other side.

The old one had his eyes closed, and the Force twined around him. Beautiful, clear, without malice.

Yoda's words the first time he'd spent an afternoon with them drifted back up from Anakin's memory.

_“The battle for Toydaria is fierce, Master Yoda. Aren't you more needed there?”  
“Always 'needed' somewhere, am I. But make time for the helpless we must, or lose ourselves we _ will. _”_

So far they hadn't lost the war because of military leaders taking the occasional break to cradle Obi-Wan with peace and friendship in the Force.

_I think he might be right. About a lot more things than I used to assume._

As he watched, he saw Yoda's ears flick upwards, his eyes opening wide in surprise.

“What is it?” Anakin asked.

“Found him, I did.”  
Anakin's heart leaped into his throat. “What?” he asked, voice near inaudible.

“Recognize me, he does not. Wonder, I do... recognize  _you,_ might he?”

Tears started to Anakin's eyes.  _Dear Force, please let it be true._ “How much of him is left?”  
“Know that, I do not. Not much.” Yoda looked sad. “Little, there remains. Worth seeking out still, is it not?”

Oh,  _definitely._

 

* * *

 

Days later Anakin gave up in frustration, turning to Yoda who'd come to visit again.

“It's pointless,” Anakin muttered. “I can't find him.”

“Hmm. Offer him comfort can you, if find it yourself you cannot?”

Anakin sighed. “I don't understand.”

“At peace with yourself, you must be. Who you are. Where you have been. Where you are going. Embrace yourself you must, before help him you can.”

Hopelessness returned. “Then I can't help him.”  
“Holding you back, what is?”

“I can't embrace myself, Master Yoda. I— did something terrible.” Anakin snuck a glance into warm eyes but found no condemnation there. He found himself telling the story of his mother's death, and what he did after. Halfway through he began to sob, even as he struggled to speak.

Yoda moved to sit before him and held his hand, tears slipping from ancient eyes as his soul grieved for all those involved. For the innocent woman who died before her time. For the Tuskens who could understand no other path than torture and violence, perpetuated from generation to generation. For the Sand Children who died. For Anakin, who suffered and broke beneath the pain.

“So you see, Master Yoda. I can't help him. I'll never be able to help him. What I did was unforgivable.”

“Unforgivable? Beyond redemption, no one is, if desire it they do. Embrace Dooku I would, if only home he would run.” There was such grief, such longing in his voice.

_He loves him,_ Anakin realized.  _After everything he's done, Yoda still loves him._

But they weren't speaking of Dooku.

_It's me. And I knew better, I knew it was wrong even as I did it._ “I'm sure there are many who desire redemption and never find it.”  
“Willing to fight for it, they must be. Willing to make right what was made wrong.”

“I can't make it right, Master.”

“Hmm.” Yoda stared searchingly into his eyes. “Completely true, is that?”

Anakin wiped the tears from his cheeks with his hand, confused by Yoda's question. “I don't understand.”

“Drawing from the dark side, healing was it?”

Anakin shuddered.

“Believe me before, did you, about it?”  
Anakin grimaced. “I thought maybe it was a religious thing. Something that had to do with years of inflexible... irrationality, Master.”  
“Think what now do you?”  
“I'm not better off for having given in to the darkness inside me. Murder didn't bring me closer to closure, it didn't offer hope for my future, and it has crippled me every step of the way since. Maybe there _is_ a long tradition of choosing peace over revenge, but the galaxy is descending into chaos because everyone has to pay back for every wrong they've suffered. It's an endless cycle of violence, of cruelty. I think— I think maybe Satine had some good points. I wish she was still alive, because I would like to ask her again about her beliefs. I dismissed them out of hand before.”  
Yoda gave a grave nod. “Learned much you have.”

“It was a dearly purchased lesson,” Anakin replied, feeling vile. “It's impossible for good to come from this.”  
“So certain are you? Learned you have, that corrupts what it touches, darkness does. No small thing. Broken and returned, you have. Most who break, never seek healing. Too drunk on power, too callous to others' pain. Too convinced they found enlightenment have.”

“I haven't fallen and abandoned the Order, no, but I'm not out there fighting, either. So I'm not sure how it makes any difference.”

“From within, usually difficult it is to see. Feel it, I do— the future more hope now holds. Perhaps your advice, your friendship, save tomorrow's Jedi can.”

“Tomorrow's Jedi?”

“The hero of many children, you are. Show them you care, and respond they will. A word from a friend and hero, change a life can, when spoken in the right moment. Save others from your fate, perhaps you will. Worth fighting for, yes? Hmm?”  
Anakin looked one last time into his eyes. “I responded to the injustice of a life cut short by doing the exact same thing. Their deaths are meaningless, Master.”  
“Ah, but if galvanize you into protecting life in all forms it does, honor them, you do. Make that wrong right, you cannot. But prevent other wrongs, you _can._ ”

Yoda touched the back of his hand with a gentle finger. “The potential of terrible things, within us all exists. Grand villains born evil were not. How we respond, when faced with our own inner harm,  _that_ our lives define.”

“Inner harm? Don't you mean evil?”

“Harm to ourselves and others, evil merely is. A lack of care for the effects of our actions. To respect oneself and others, to fight evil  _that_ is. Light, it is, as dark selfishness is.”

“If the Chosen One is supposed to unite both light and dark, I don't think I'm him.” Anakin gave a wan smile.

Yoda looked surprised. “Balanced, would you call a person, who saves life and gaslights a loved one both? Must one be intentionally cruel, to healthy be? Is not Balance found when at peace with oneself and the universe around? When the best version of yourself you are?”

Anakin gave a tiny smile. “As opposed to the angst-ridden, tortured hero who walks with one foot on either path, who harms as much as he helps?”

“Inflicting evil that good may result, results rarely in good.” Yoda patted him on the knee. “Feeds arrogance. The belief one, better than all others is, because special 'wisdom' they have. Lofty, looking down on their fellow beings. Clever, they think themselves, but in their wake follows sadness... and care, they do not.”

“Sounds like those who want both may as well go all the way dark. They might do less harm.”

“Hmm. Better it is, to answer hate with love. Brings healing, hate never does.”

Yoda stood with a muffled groan and shuffled towards the door.

Under its arch he paused, looked back, and called, “Find your best self, and find Obi-Wan, you will.”

And then he was gone.

 

* * *

 

It didn't come in an instant.

Forgiving himself was the most difficult thing Anakin Skywalker had ever done in his life.

It was different from justifying. He'd been justifying himself for two years now.

_What I did was terrible._

No caveats.

_I want to make sure I never do something like that again._

That meant being aware of the fact that harm to his loved ones put him in a vulnerable place.

_If another one suffers, I will have to be willing to let lawful justice be served, instead of leaping to murder._

He'd ignored his weaknesses too long.  _Only by looking at them head-on can I hope to protect myself and others in the future._

Maybe someday he would have the opportunity to talk someone else down from the same ledge, to share that he had taken the dark path to try to ease his pain. Perhaps his suffering, and the suffering of those around him could serve to prevent the suffering of others.

_Maybe the endless cycle of violence can end with me._

_Maybe my past can be a strength. I grieve what has been done to me and what I have done to others, but I will no longer try to expel it from my life._

_This is where I've come from._

_Enough hiding from it. Enough trying to make it okay._

_Instead of fighting my past, I want to fight_ for  _my future, and for other people's futures._

Anakin leaned down, pressed a gentle kiss to Obi-Wan's forehead.

Lying curled beside him, head resting against Obi-Wan's side, Anakin simply closed his eyes and existed.

For the first time in his life, he stopped running.

_I see you,_ he thought to the specters that had chased him for so long.  _I will no longer let fear of you cripple me._

He allowed his mind to rest.

Calm filled him, a harmony with himself and the universe. All that mattered was the sun warming his skin, the soft cushion of the grass, the gentle rustle of leaves, that he was alive, that he had a chance to make the future better, that Obi-Wan was here and safe. That Ahsoka was happy and thriving.

He looked from what he'd lost, to what he still had.

There, in this place of content, he sensed something hauntingly familiar. Tiny glitters of a presence, fragile shards of a mind that he loved so very dearly.

Eyes filled with tears, hand clamped over his mouth as his heart broke from hope and dread he might be mistaken, Anakin reached out to brush against those pieces.

They lit up with joy, with recognition at his touch.

Silently weeping with gratitude, Anakin whispered his love into them, knowing Obi-Wan couldn't understand the words, but knowing he felt safe, warm, loved.

Anakin hugged him tight, and in their brokenness, he found healing.

 

 

 


End file.
